


Marking

by millari



Category: Caprica (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millari/pseuds/millari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamara Adama is being bullied at school. Her Uncle Sam is the one she chooses to confide in about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



> This isn't the wonderful story I hoped it would be. I struggled with it more than I anticipated, and I'm sorry it's not much. But I hope you get some satisfaction out of it.

When Tamara Adams was seven years old, she discovered the concept of bullies.

It was Tamara’s third year in school, and Shannon Adams had decided, much to Tamara’s proud excitement, that this year, Tamara was a big enough girl to walk to school by herself.

Her excitement died away soon after she met Robin.

Robin’s favorite game with seven-year-old Tamara Adams is to corner her on the block just before their school building, where she knows that if Tamara wants to enter their school, she must pass through this one last stretch of street.

“Hey dirt-eater!” The girl is five years older than Tamara, and tall for her age, and she pounces on Tamara every time with the sudden fierceness of a lion springing out of the grasslands to attack its prey. But Tamara is no fleet-footed gazelle, and no matter how tense she’s become about entering this zone, no matter how much she knows this is coming, she’s never able to quite anticipate Robin’s line of assault.

Before she ever has time to react, she feels the inevitable, panic-inducing imbalance of her feet threatening to give out from under her, of the stumbling run backwards against her will—Robin shoving her into the concrete wall of the Intercolonial Newsstand building (where her father sometimes buys the Tauran newspaper when he picks her up from school).

Tamara forces herself to read the headlines from the posted issue of the _Tauron Globe Times_. This is a mantra, something to distract herself from what she’s sure is the imminent threat of suffocation. She reads the headlines from the current issue of the paper, which is pinned as assiduously to a large cork bulletin board outside the newsstand as Robin’s forearm is pinned against Tamara’s windpipe. She reads them one by one as she struggles not to think about what will happen one day if Robin never lets go.

_Major Ha’La’Tha Arrests on Virgon and Leonis. President Phaulkon Sells Off Government’s Majority Share in TauNat. Bad Wheat Crop on Tauron Predicted This Harvest._

There is nothing else she can do.

“You’re in my territory!” Robin leans in so close, grinning so smugly that Tamara feels the fetid warmth of the girl’s breath on her face. “You don’t get to do that, dirt-eater!”

She keeps Tamara in this position until Tamara is reduced to desperate gagging, gasping, and writhing for air, then lets her go with a mocking laugh, shoving her to the ground. Tamara coughs loudly, her throat feeling bruised and strafed as she takes in rushes of air. She eyes her tormentor’s back as the older girl struts away with such a supreme confidence.

**  
It’s Saturn’s Day, and Uncle Sam and Uncle Larry are babysitting her and Willie, who is tumbling and crawling in his playpen in the living room, where Uncle Larry is enmeshed in the guts of the family’s wireless viewscreen. The Bulls game is in an hour, and Sam is making running commentary.

“I can’t believe Yusef tricked us into babysitting when he knew his wireless wasn’t working.” Uncle Sam’s voice is soft and playful, despite tattoos all over his body that make him look strange and a little scary when he’s wearing a tank top, like he is now as he chops vegetables on a cutting board and calls from the kitchen to his husband. “He owes us big time.”

“Yeah, well _you_ owe me big time.” Larry is on his back on the floor, his body half under the console and all its exposed, hanging wires. “As usual, you’re just reaping the benefits of my impressive cornucopia of hidden skills.”

“Maybe we should unveil some of those hidden talents tonight after we go to bed.” Uncle Sam’s tone sounds pleased. This is the time to ask him, she thinks.

“I think we definitely should," Uncle Larry replies with a grin from under the wires. "Now shut up and cook our lovely niece her lunch while I save your ass yet again, all right?”

Tamara now sees that timing, courage, and access to her uncle have finally come together. She doesn’t want to lose her chance to approach Uncle Sam when he’s not distracted by his husband or her dad. He’s just contentedly chopping vegetables and meat cubes when she finally dares ask the question.

“Uncle Sammy?” She tugs on his tank top.  
The chopping continues its unshakeable rhythm.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Do you think I could get markings just like yours?”

For a moment, the only sound she hears is that of Willie cooing in his playpen. “These are very special markings, Tammy,” he says eventually. “You shouldn’t really have one quite like any of these. But maybe you could get a different kind when you’re older.”

“Why can’t I have one like yours?”

Another pause. “Well, because they’re only given to certain people. And you’re not one of them. So you shouldn’t have them. They mark me as someone particular in our culture.”

"Who do they mark you as?"

He pauses, as if she's caught him doing something wrong. "That's an answer for when you're older too."

“Grandma Ruth has the same ones,” she says flatly and watches her uncle’s eyebrows rise.” He nods slowly. “That is true.”

“I want ones like yours and Grandma Ruth’s. Why can't I have one?"

“Why is that, Tammy?” Uncle Larry’s slow and deliberate words come from the living room. “Why do you want markings like Uncle Sam and Grandma Ruth’s?”

“Because their markings make them strong." She meets Uncle Larry's eyes with childish defiance. "Nobody ever hurts them.”

Uncle Sam makes a huffing sound that she’s heard before. He’s made it at Dad, when she could tell he was angry about something Dad said. She wonders for a second if she's made him mad at her for asking this. But she doesn't know what else to do anymore. She desperately wants this torment to end.

"Is someone hurting _you_ , Tammy?” Uncle Sam’s voice sounds gentle on the surface, but she hears that anger underneath again. It makes him slightly scary. She gets a flash of memory, of Robin's air of vicious confidence as she left Tamara on the ground. She wants that. She wants to be scary. She wants to be strong. She wants this to end.

“I want to be marked,” she insists. “And I want to learn how to fight.”

A sigh next to her tells her that Uncle Larry has entered the kitchen. “Don't even think about it,” he tells Sam. “Joseph and Shannon will kill you.”

Uncle Sam snorts. “I’m not going to mark a seven-year-old, Larry; she’s too young.” But he leans down to peer into her face, and his smile is calming now, like the Tauran headlines on the _Globe Times_.  
“But you and me and your parents and Grandma Ruth are going to have a talk tonight, okay, honey? You're going to tell me what's going on, all right?"

 _And you'll tell me how to end it?_  Her eyes plead with him.

As if she'd said the words aloud, he reaches out a hand to the back of her head and kisses her on the temple. "We're going to fix whatever this is, Tammy, I promise. Do you believe me?"

She nods solemly, not sure what he has in mind, but she doesn't care. She's known for a while now that Uncle Sam and Grandma Ruth share a secret together, connected by those markings. It's one that keeps the Robins of the world from hurting them. They're strong.

"You've been kept from your heritage too long, honey. It's made you vulnerable," Uncle Sam says. "But don't you worry. That ends today."

"Sam..." Uncle Larry interjects, as if wanting to say something, but Uncle Sam waves him off.

"The Tauron ways, it's our armor in this life, Larry. We will always be targets, but knowing who you are gives you power." He turns back to Tamara. "No marks for you yet, young lady, but don't you worry. We're going to make you strong. I promise you that."

Tamara sighs in relief, but she looks one more time at his markings, and resolves that when she's older and she is marked, she will find a symbol. And then she will never be afraid again.


End file.
